Rain can have very strong feelings attached to it. For every person, it has a different connotation. To some, the rain is calming and soothing; to others, the sound of rain makes them feel lonely or solemn. You could even imagine every person as a rain drop, landing in one of two boxes. Those in the first box feel good about the rain, and those in the second box dislike the rain. Then, there's me, who managed to fall outside of the box. Who doesn't feel anything in the rain.
Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Am I supposed to be neutral about rainstorms? Everybody I've met has some sort of opinion about the rain: "It helps me focus," or "It scares me a little bit." Even for the people who claim they don't care, when it starts to rain they quiet down and look toward the window just like everybody else. I've always felt like the odd one out, because I don't just say, "Rain is simply water falling from the sky," but I actually look outside and that's what I see: water falling from the sky, no feelings or thoughts attached.
If a person came up to me and asked me to write a song about the rain, I wouldn't know the first verse. When I sit down and look outside during a storm, should I be feeling sadness, happiness, or just this nothingness? Is there someone who feels the same way, sitting and looking out into the rain just like I am right now, wondering how they should feel when the first drop lands on their arm? Wondering if there's anyone else like them?
Rain
Although I had probably been hearing it for a while now, it took some time for my mind to actually register the sound of the rain in the real world. Sneaking a glance at the window, I saw that it was spattered with droplets and the noise grew louder now that I was aware of it. Since I wasn't doing anything interesting—doing side quests and looking for materials in a solo hunting zone—I didn't feel any particular urgency to get back to the game. So naturally, I was glad for the diversion, and allowed myself to move to a safe spot and relax. I removed my headphones and hung them over my monitor, then after a moment's consideration I muted the volume to silence the dreary background music of the dungeon. Now, I could properly focus on the ambience of the rain.
My room was dim, but not to the point where I couldn't see. As a rule, I try to avoid looking at the computer screen in the dark; it hurts my eyes, even though some people prefer having to turn the lights off while they're gaming. Still, there were times when I didn't want to bother with getting the light switch, so I just let the room darken.
The rain outside fell lightly against the window, a subtle reminder to me so I wouldn't forget. I glanced at the digital alarm clock on my desk, which read 9:26 PM. The night was still young—by my standards, at least. However, I was supposed to be training myself to have a better sleep schedule, and that included showing some restraint when it came to my nocturnal gaming sessions.
Sword in scabbard, my avatar had relaxed and entered idle position, which involved crossing his arms and propping himself up against the wall before nodding off into sleep. A chat message popped up onto the screen, but I didn't reply instantaneously like I typically did. Instead, I spent almost an entire minute reading it before I sent a reply. It was almost like my fingers were trying to work against me—it took quite some effort to politely decline the invitation, saying I wanted to get some sleep—but I had to follow up on the commitment I had made. I was reminded of a saying that had personal value to me: "Dedication, discipline, and sacrifice! Choice of champions!"
Clicking the orange log-out button, I waited while the game closed and returned to my desktop's screensaver: a colorful watercolor picture depicting a "normal" village submerged completely underwater. It was an artist's rendition of a scene from the movie Ponyo. While the movie wasn't all that impressive, I enjoyed some of the visual effects in it. I stared at it for a couple more seconds, not looking at anything in particular.
With a subdued feeling of loss, I reached out and tapped a button on the monitor, which went black a moment after. I breathed in and exhaled heavily before lightly kicking off the wall, sending my seat and self away from the desk. I stood up, then made my way over to the far side of my room.
I was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts; I remembered because of a cool draft I felt shortly after standing up. In the first half of July, there wasn't really a reason to wear more than what I was wearing right now. Most of the time, the sun was out and shining. Twelve hours later, it would be replaced by the moon and the gentle night breeze that was sometimes warm, sometimes cool. Sometimes, and this usually happened a couple times every year, neither the sun nor the moon would be visible. In their place, looming clouds and a chill in the air. On those nights, there was a chance of rain. I've heard people call rain in July the tears of Vega and Altair, the star-crossed lovers of the celestial realm.
I hadn't noticed myself move, but I looked down to find my hand pressed up against the glass. When I lifted my head, my eyes going past the window and toward the heavens, I was overcome by a sudden feeling of melancholy. Like I was trapped, or unhappy, or alone.
A moment later I shook my head. I wasn't alone; Dad said he would be back later tonight, and is sleeping in just the next room over. I have friends I can call, even though Tsukasa is forgetful and leaves her phone in places where she doesn't hear the ringtone, and Miyuki tends to forget the call is on and leave the room without warning, and Kagami doesn't pick up her cell all too often anymore.
"Oh hell, who am I kidding?" I let out a sigh that was either soundless or drowned out by the constant of the rain. Suddenly, I wanted to lean out the window, into the rain, to feel more of the same cool sensation from putting a hand to the glass. I wanted to reach out and cup my hand so that I would catch some of the water falling from the sky.
I hesitated, logic and common sense arguing with instinct and desire. It was only seconds before the latter proved victorious, and I fumbled with the latch before thrusting my hand outside into the rainstorm like I was grabbing desperately for a hat blown away in the wind. A section of the roof that jutted out over the wall saved me from the full force of the torrent, so for the most part I remained dry.
My fingers were slick with water in less than a second. I curled them into a fist, then unfurled them and let them go limp, rubbing them together and stretching them as far apart as they would go. It was an amazing feeling, and I found myself staring as if I had been introduced to a strange and intriguing new concept. It was refreshing, to say the least. I lost track of time, disconnected from the world by something as simple as catching the rain and letting it fall through my fingers. I could hear it hitting the roof, the ground, feel it on my bare skin and, dare I say it, in my soul.
The trance was broken when something fell in my eye and made me flinch, pulling my hand back like it had been stung. I wiped at my face with my other hand, and it came away wet. Without thinking, I reached up and clawed for something to grip, finally grabbing the edge of the window through blind panic. I yanked it down, and it slammed against the windowsill with a loud bang. Thankfully it hadn't shattered from the impact, but my eyes immediately locked onto a crack that hadn't been there before.
Backing away from the window, my feet moving on their own, I stared at the barrier keeping the rain out, away from me. Then, I stared at the puddle on the ground, and the trail that led toward me. I was shivering, not out of fear but because I was cold. I was drenched. My shirt was sheer and almost see through, my shorts clung to my legs, and my bare feet felt odd on the wet carpet.
The wind had changed without warning. For a couple minutes, the rain had been falling almost straight down, but now I could see drops rapidly appearing on the window before gravity took control and dragged them downward to the bottom of the glass.
I lifted my freezing, wet hand up to my face, bringing it eye level with the palm facing up. I gave it a shake, sending water flying in all directions, but it was still wet. Dropping my hand to my side, I clenched my teeth and breathed in, then out—a sharp inhalation followed by a shaky exhalation. I swallowed, then repeated the process until I could control my breathing. Then, I turned and ran to the door, knowing I was leaving behind a trail of watery footprints that I couldn't do anything about. I would have to clean up the mess later, but for now my only goal was to dry off. Door wide open and window shut tightly, I left my room in search of a towel, a change of clothes, and maybe—no, definitely—a warm drink.